


love it when you try for me

by imaginarybarista



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Denial, PWP, Part 2, it ends with sex in a staircase, louis wears an apron and nothing else, sugar baby!louis, sugar daddy!au, sugar daddy!harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 07:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1156870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginarybarista/pseuds/imaginarybarista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is still Harry's boy. He might get a little greedy, and Harry might decide to address that. Louis sends dick pics to Harry, strokes phallic vegetables, and gets naked under an apron. (Once again, slutty Louis devises a plan.)</p><p>sort of sequel to my sugar daddy! au [right now].</p>
            </blockquote>





	love it when you try for me

**Author's Note:**

> part 2 to my sugar daddy!au [right now]. I wanted to make it distinguishable from the other, and i hope i haven't let it get away from me. tiny warning that the opening scene is a little intense, but i promise harry makes it all better.   
> *whispers* end notes are sort of important so read them when you get there. i'm imaginarybarista on tumblr ;) ao3 made me re-upload this, so i edited/added things two separate times, so it's possible i was impatient and didn't catch everything the second time. (oops?)
> 
> hope you enjoy it :D

"Baby, I love it when you try for me." The comforting words are nuzzled into Louis's neck. Harry's curls are tickling Louis's cheek, and Louis would giggle from the sensation if he weren't trying not to cry. He's biting his lip and he wriggles, trying to turn his face away from Harry and squeezes his hands into fists above his head, where Harry is still holding his wrists.

 

One hiccupy gasp escapes when Harry releases his wrists and gently moves them to rest by his head on the pillow.

 

He can feel the shame twisting through him, making his stomach clench and his cheeks burn. He can feel the heat on them, imagines the tear that’s just leaked out sizzling against the heat of his skin.

 

He didn't mean to, didn't mean to disappoint Harry. And now Harry, perfect Harry, is being nothing but comforting. For some reason, it's only making Louis feel worse.

 

He wants to curl in on himself, stay in a fetal position so he can hide a little while and show Harry how sorry he is. He's never messed up before, at least not intentionally. Sometimes he's disobedient because it's just part of who they are, of who _Louis_ is. Louis likes a little discipline... Enjoys a punishment. It's a mutual understanding between he and Harry. Harry has a lifestyle where everyone treats him as rich and powerful, and Louis likes that. He likes that Harry enjoys spoiling him. And he likes that he can please Harry too. Everything is mutually beneficial.

 

Harry's propping himself up with one hand, his naked body pressed against Louis's side. He's running fingers through Louis's hair, and in a low, still-husky tone is murmuring a continuous "Louis, sweet, it's okay, you're good. You were _so_ good for me, it's okay, talk to me, don't cry, baby... Ssh, what's wrong? Tell me, Louis."

 

"I..." A hiccup. "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry I didn't listen, I'm bad and I didn't _mean_ to be," he sniffles. He's beginning to feel chilly from the sweat drying on his skin and his thighs feel tacky. An anguished noise rips out of his chest, which only makes him hiccup/sob because he sounds like a wounded dolphin which is hilarious and he's trying to laugh except he chokes on a hiccup so he sort of sounds like he's gasping and dying.

 

Harry's moved his hand down now to rub Louis's chest, rubbing circles over his sternum oh so gently while cooing in his ear. "Did you... Did you come, sweet?"

 

Louis sniffles. There's a pause, and Harry continues to rub Louis's chest and press his lips to Louis's shoulder while he waits for an answer. "Yeah," Louis finally whispers.

 

Just as quietly, Harry murmurs back. "I thought I said to wait?" Normally if Louis's directly disobeyed Harry, he'd be spanked or Harry won't let him come for a few days, maybe make himself get himself off while Harry watches (or the other way around, to tease Louis that he can't touch Harry, can't be the one providing pleasure).

 

This isn't even the first time Louis has cried during or after sex. While Harry slips into a more domineering role during sex, it doesn't diminish the side of Harry who can be gentle. The side which delights in surprising Louis with a bottle of his favorite (if over-priced) cologne and the like. The same hand that willingly turns Louis's ass pink is the hand that lovingly brushes a thumb across Louis's cheekbone.

 

Right now, he recognizes this Louis isn't the cheeky Louis who'd come because he wanted to, purposely ignoring Harry in order to get punished. This Louis is genuinely... _upset_ that he's come, and now he's ashamed and sad that he has.

 

Harry feels a slight panic and sense of devastation rise up inside him. Louis should _never_ feel like that.

 

"Lou..." He trails off. He's not sure exactly what to say, but he can't let Louis be ashamed in coming before he's meant to. Orgasms are meant to be delightful, enjoyable, both a gift and everything wonderful people deserve.

 

Really, Harry wouldn't have expected Louis to last _too_ long. He's quite talented. And he honestly doesn't mind, it's quite flattering.

 

He cups Louis's cheek, gently turning his face so Louis is forced to look at Harry. "Baby, you're perfectly good." Louis's baby blues blink. His lashes are a bit darker from when tears welled up. _Of course_ Louis would look even more beautiful when he's absolutely destroyed.

 

"But you said to wait. I didn't listen." It's true. And normally Harry would tease, suggest Louis been a bad boy, maybe deserves a special treatment for not listening. This doesn't feel normal.

 

"You tried, angel. It's definitely okay, I don't mind. You waited so long, you were so patient, I understood you couldn't wait." He didn't mean to embarrass Louis any further, but he sees Louis's cheeks pink up again at the implication of him being needy, unable to wait.

 

Louis snuggles closer to Harry, pressing their chests together. He wraps an arm around Harry, his fingers pressing into the muscle of Harry's back and his other arm stuck between them. He presses his nose into the crease where Harry's neck and collarbone meet. Harry instantly draws Louis closer, nuzzles into Louis's fringe.

 

Ten minutes later, Louis draws back enough from where his breath is leaving condensation on Harry's skin to tilt his head up towards Harry's ear. "Sorry."

 

"I told you, love, you've got nothing to feel sorry for--"

 

"No, no," Louis cuts in. "I'm sorry for... Well. I was sorry for coming but now I'm sorry for blubbering all over you for it."

 

Harry just chuckled and smooths a hand down Louis's back. "Eh, you can get me back for that." He keeps his tone light. "Like I said, I'm so proud of you for trying. You were doing so good." It's quiet again, and Louis draws a pattern on Harry's back. "You know what this means?" Harry brings up, almost conversationally.

 

Louis peeps his eyes up again. "Hmm?"

 

"Just means we get to practice more," he says. The grin in his voice is unmissable.

 

Louis snickers because he can't help it. (He's not about to refuse. Harry kissing and licking him and touching and stroking for teasingly long amounts of time... He'd have to be crazy not to want it, again and again.)

 

***

 

Harry leaves for Toronto two days later. Louis goes to his internship, goes out with Greg on Friday. He’d never say it out loud (it’s something he’d only be able to confide in to Harry), but he’s already missing Harry. The flat seems empty and nobody’s around to tell him they appreciate his tight gray trousers, or compliment his fringe.

 

He takes comfort in the ridiculous luxury chocolate package that arrives the morning after he leaves. Nestled over various fruit, nut, and cream truffles is a gold foil square that has the sender’s note. Louis blushes and one of his hand travels to cup his butt cheek. So what if chocolate makes it plumper? (Apparently, Harry isn’t complaining.)

 

It’s why he allows Greg to drag him out, meeting up at a bar a few blocks down from the studio. Greg’s easy cheer and friendly demeanor make him an excellent companion, and Greg helpfully points out all the lads and ladies who are checking out Louis behind him. It makes Louis fluff up a bit, like praise always does, and he has to admit the excursion does make him feel a little bit better.

 

Harry calls on Sunday. It’s just after lunch in Canada, meaning Louis is just about to leave to meet Greg and Henry and some of the work lads at the new Thai place for dinner.

 

Louis’s got his trusty Mac open. (He’d tried to refuse when Harry bought it for him, and then Harry Skyped him. And then Louis discovered Skype sex. It did wonders to change his mind.)

 

He hears the familiar Skype tones when Harry’s call comes in. He eagerly clicks to pick up, and the wrinkles by his eyes crinkle up as he waits for the black screen to reveal a dimpled Harry.

 

“Hiiiiiii, sweets,” Harry draws out.

 

“Fucking... Christ... On a pretzel.” It’s quite possible that Louis’s forgotten what words are.

 

Harry must be in a hotel room, because he’s shirtless... and pantless. And he’s got his own laptop on the foot of the bed, because Louis can see nearly all of Harry on his screen. God bless Apple and their high quality shit, because though his body is slightly pixelated, Harry’s audio is coming in loud and clear.

 

The laugh rings out from Louis’s speakers. “Like what you see?”

 

Actually, Louis would like to tell him, it’s usually he who gets to surprise Harry with naked Skype calls. Really. He’s quite content to finish his thesis, go to work a few hours a day, and lounge around on Harry’s furniture the rest of the time. He’s got ample time to come up with distractions for Harry. (His mind fondly travels back to the day when he sucked Harry off during a conference call. And the time Harry spanked him after Louis was a brat on purpose for some concert tickets. And the time Louis was jacking off and decided to Skype Harry, only for Harry to accept the call when he had employees in his office. (Harry really should’ve known better.) Seriously, this is completely new, for Harry to be the more playful one. Usually he’s a little more stern when it comes to this stuff, usually politely requests Louis to dance for him on camera if he’s feeling up for a show. It may be rare, and Louis only wishes he could take advantage.)

 

“I... Harry, God, yeah, I like what I see!” Louis checks himself out instinctively, eyes darting to the bottom corner of his screen, and he smooths his hair, closes his mouth from where his jaw has actually dropped.

 

He sees Harry smile coolly. “D’you wanna match me? I love how _my_ cashmere looks on you, baby, but I think it’d be better if we’re on even ground,” he suggests.

 

Louis groans and watches Harry’s eyebrows knit in confusion and disappointment. “What?” He asks, worried.

 

“I’m supposed to go for Thai,” Louis sighs, exaggerating his despondent face to convey his genuine sadness. “The lads from work.”

 

Harry tsks and reaches one hand towards his stiff cock, wraps it in his hand. Louis tries not to whimper a little. (His mouth actually watered a little bit, which he refuses to think about, and he’s pretty sure Harry can tell he’s tracking the movement of Harry’s hand now, where it’s ever so slightly moving up and down with little twists.) “Guess you’re just gonna have to wait to come, aren’t you baby? We can’t have you getting all hot and bothered before dinner with Greg. I mean, I like him, but I don’t need him seeing you ten minutes after you come, when you’re still sweaty from thinking about me.”

 

Louis’s face actually drops onto his keyboard. Several screechy Skype noises beep from his computer and he jumps upright again. Harry’s laughing at him again.

 

“You could watch me, though,” Harry suggests. “I can make it fast. And then you can send me pictures of you, after dinner.” Louis’s nodding before he even process what’s happening. Harry winks at him and disappears from view for a moment. He’s back with a little blue tube and gets his palm and fingers slick. “When my dick’s this wet, it’s so much easier for me, babe.” Harry grunts when he squeezes himself. Louis swallows, watches Harry touching his cock. “I can imagine I’ve just fucked you, and you’re so sensitive that I can’t even finish in you. Or maybe you’ve been down on me, and that’s why I’m so slicked up. Or maybe you’ve already come, all over me. _Mmmm,_ that does it for me.... Louis, oh my God. Yes, yes...” And Louis’s lost Harry. He’s sporting a huge boner of his own and he’s immensely jealous as Harry narrated fantasy diminishes into _yes’s_ and _aaahs_ and _‘oh, yeah, Louis’._

 

Harry comes quickly, as promised, and blows Louis a kiss. “Lookin’ forward to lookin’ at you,” he says with a smirk.

 

Louis just feebly grins. “Ha. Ha. Yup. Um. I’m. I’ve got to leave now, or I’ll be even later?”

 

Harry nods. “Yeah, yeah, go ahead, babe. Say hello to Gregory for me. I love ya, sweet. ”

 

“Ditto, Harold.” And Harry’s leaning forward slowly, hair flopping all over, his face flushed bright. He looks down at his sticky hand and fucking giggles before reaching out with his clean hand to end the call.

 

“Fuuuuuuck.” Louis adjusts himself, sets the Mac on the coffee table, and gets up to search for his keys and wallets. He’s never been less excited to go out with friends.

 

***

 

He thinks he’s been able to lose the “I’m so incredibly turned on right now” glow from his cheeks, and he had a nice cab ride which wasn’t bumpy enough to cause problems. Nobody says anything when he shows up to the restaurant, believing his excuse about leaving his wallet at home for the reason he’s ten minutes late. (It’s Louis, though. Ten minutes late is pretty good.)

 

He’s got a lime flavored vodka thing, unlimited spring rolls, and a fried rice on the way. He’s already downed half a Vietnamese beer and is in a pleasant, giggly state when he excuses himself to go to the bathroom. He blames it on the alcohol when he shuts himself into the single mens’ stall and braces himself against it’s door, one hand reaching down to cup himself.

 

His erection which had subsided on the trip to the restaurant is back full force and he can’t _help_ it, Harry said to send pics of himself later. (After dinner, during dinner, what’s the difference?)

 

He unzips his trousers (slate gray with minuscule little periwinkle polka dots, possibly snatched from the lady’s section, but a perfect length to show off his toasty  brown ankles. He’s quite proud of the tan he acquired when Harold took him to Puerto Rico. Business trips for the win!) and brushes his fingers over the head of his cock, trapped against his thigh. He pushes his pants down far enough to grasp his cock (okay, so maybe boxers with their handy button flies are convenient, but he likes the tight briefs. They do a better job of holding everything together, and let him wear tighter trousers.) and lets out a hiss when his cold hand comes in contact.

 

He frantically checks his pockets, tugging out his wallet and opening it to it’s special pocket. Aha! Condom and a sachet of lube. He never knew they made those until Harry pulled one out the night they had sex on a beach. He’s not exactly well-versed in... gay stuff. He grew up focused on footie and his mom and sisters, and his friends and _Grease_ and frankly didn’t actually watch that much porn. (Okay, so he watched a some porn.) But he never bought any toys before Harry, never got too into the club scene because by the time he was adventurous and confident enough to, he’d already met Harry.

 

He’s got his eyes squeezed shut, remembering the way Harry had groaned his name earlier on camera. _Fuck_. He replays some of his favorite memories of Harry licking around his rim, Harry spanking him, Harry fucking into his own fist earlier-- oh God, he’s so close, so close-- a knock breaks his concentration.

 

“Is this occupied?”  

 

Louis wants to shriek.

 

“Yes!” His voice has gone uncomfortably high.

 

“Okay, sorry mate. Back in a few.”

 

“Uh huh, thanks,” Louis calls. He whines when his dick twitches. He can only imagine telling Harry he nearly came when somebody almost interrupted him, inches away on the other side of the door. Then he lets his mind drift back to Harry, Harry’s smell and Harry’s voice and the way Harry grunts when he’s close, and Harry promising to practice holding off coming, and Louis’s _gone_.

 

He texts Harry a pic with a little note about where he is and what he’s just done.

 

***

 

He doesn’t get home for another two hours. He’s a little more tipsy than earlier, because lime vodka thingies-- did their name start with a g?-- are soooo delicious. He wishes Harry were here. Harry would help him up the stairs to the door of the building, Harry would tug his sweater off. Harry would take care of him. _Sigh,_ he thinks to himself, letting himself flop down onto his bed. Their bed. It’s so empty.

 

He can’t help himself again when his hands drift south. Empty. Like him. He feels empty. He doesn’t want to be. He wishes Harry were here. His drunk(ish?) mind is on repeat and Louis finds himself twenty minutes later losing himself to his own fingers.

 

He sends Harry a second picture, fingers covered in come. “Two times because I miss you :( did you know lime and vodka and ice blocks go togetherrrr Harold???” Thank goodness for autocorrect, honestly. Spelling and capitalization even when drunk. Amazing. He tries bigger words just for fun, to test if autocorrect guesses right. “Watermelon drinks from Clemens are food too im glad j came fence bust mins n BSA two vodkas thingies,” is what autocorrect comes up with. Not too far off from “Watermelon drinks from Vietnam are good too. I’m glad I came twice like I had two vodka thingies.” Wait. Watermelon?

 

***

 

He wakes up when the alarm goes off. He went to bed early, no real reason to stay up, and reaches for his phone. He’s got new message alerts from Harry. “Greedy, Louis. Thought I told you to wait until after dinner? Couldn’t wait... thats kinda hot.” Louis giggle and bites his lip, scrolls to the next message. “Louis Tomlinson, I’m shocked. Coming twice? Now THAT is greedy.” Louis snorts, secretly delighted that he’s got Harry’s attention. “I have to go to dinner myself now, will only be thinking of you” is the next text, followed by “naughty boy I hope you are prepared to be less greedy when i get home. ps we’re going to the thai place if you like those damn vodka things so much” and the last message is the watermelon emoji next to the martini emoji.

 

It’s the last he’s heard from Harry, and the messages are marked in the three am hour in London, putting Harry at around ten at night in Toronto.

 

He taps out a quick reply before setting out to shower and shave for work. “Sorry H. guess it was a little greedy but cant blame a boy can you?” Before he can give it a second thought, he also shoots off a PS. “Was wishing it was you both times come home baby sweep me off my feet”

 

***

 

Harry’s back by evening. He claims it was because he finished business early in Toronto and the layover he was supposed to make to Madrid headquarters was thus unnecessary.

 

He’s waiting with flowers in the foyer when Louis lets himself in. The pink tulips are carelessly thrown on the entry hall table when Louis launches himself up, legs wrapping around Harry so he can breathe him, get even closer. They mumble hellos to each other, and Louis only detaches himself from Harry for the sake of the poor tulips. Someone’s got to find the vase, after all.

 

***

 

The next morning is a blessed Saturday. Both men have a brief lie-in, draped in Harry-selected creamy sheets. Louis wakes up when sunlight hits his body, warming him up until he’s uncomfortably hot under the comforter. He wiggles around to get comfortable, and Harry shifts toward Louis. Louis, being the inquisitive person he is, surreptitiously peeking under the blanket. Harry’s (predictably) hard.

 

Louis scoots down and moves the blanket off Harry’s naked form, dipping down to press kisses to Harry’s hipbones. He doesn’t bother nipping to leave marks, instead choosing to run his lips all over Harry’s erection before wrapping his mouth around the head of Harry’s dick. He lets himself drool a little before moving further and further down. He makes a choked noise when Harry bucks up, waking up and coming simultaneously. “Jesus fuck, Louis.” Louis looks up at Harry. His hair is feathered around his head, his eyes are bright and wide, and he’s got a white smudge on his chin. “C’mere, baby.” When Louis’s scooted himself up towards Harry, Harry brings a thumb up to wipe Louis’s chin.

 

Louis tries not to touch himself when Harry sucks his thumb, tongue stupidly lapping at his own come before his thumb’s even in his mouth. It’s ridiculously hot, but Harry had whispered to him last night that greedy boys shouldn’t touch themselves. The early bird gets the worm, and Louis’s pleased that he’s gotten to wake Harry up... but now he wishes he could’ve sneakily rubbed one out while Harry was still sleeping. He isn’t sure when he’ll get to come again.

 

While Louis’s mind was hard at work trying to process Harry licking his own come off his fingers, Harry was musing about how impossible it is not to see how beautiful Louis is in the early morning sun. He’s so masculine, the way his jaw and cheekbones are cut, and his morning stubble ghosts his cheeks and makes him look a little rough around the edges. Yet his soft hair, rumpled shorts, smooth and glowing skin say otherwise. He’s a beautiful balance of smooth and rough and Harry’s thighs tingle from where Louis’s scruff chafed when he was getting ready to suck him off.

 

Harry muffles his groan into Louis’s mouth, surprising Louis as Harry pushes him down against the bed. It’s a familiar position, and Louis’s automatically sliding his arms from around Harry to above his head. Automatically, Harry’s hand follows, clasping Louis’s wrists together. Louis flashes to the last time they were like this, him upset because he’d accidentally come. He’d tried so hard not to that it actually hurt as it ripped out of him, his body curving like a C to try and stop the inevitable. He also remembers Harry being so soothing instead of sharp, and he smiles into his unbroken kiss with Harry.

 

Harry kisses down Louis’s chest and shoulders. “Don’t move these,” he mutters against Louis’s ribs as he releases Louis’s wrists so he can move further down. Harry attentively licks each of Louis’s nipples, kisses the inside of his arms, bits his right hip, squeezes the left, slowly making Louis lose his mind. By the time Harry’s lips ghost over his cock, a drip of pre-come is beaded at the tip and Harry’s tongue comes out to lap it up. Louis’s noise that he makes as he presses his hips down in effort not to buck up is animalistic.

 

And... just like that, Harry’s gone. He’s sitting up, licking his lips, and looks extremely satisfied with himself. Louis’s hand flies down, squeezing himself, and he lets out a high-pitched whine when Harry smacks his hand. “Uh uh,” Harry warns. “You were so greedy, coming twice. Thought we’d work on that. Couldn’t even wait to get home, get away from a public place where somebody could’ve just walked in and seen you all desperate. And so we’re gonna practice, okay baby?”

 

Louis shuts his eyes and nods slowly. He wants this. Even if his body doesn’t realize it right _now_ , he’s still cognitive enough to realize that it’ll be worth it when Harry decides to let him come.

 

***

 

It’s been three days without an orgasm for Louis. Saturday, Sunday, and Monday have passed without Louis touching himself once.

 

On Saturday, he got to suck Harry off. Then he was kissed and teased all over, and then Harry made him sit naked in the kitchen while Harry cooked lunch. Harry fed him cut up vegetables and Louis sucked on Harry’s fingers as much as possible with wanton eyes, but Harry wasn’t moved. Then he got to watch Harry jack off in between commercial breaks of the footie game on telly, before they shared a shower. Of course, it was so Louis got to ogle Harry and so Harry could make sure Louis didn’t try anything. (He tried anyway. Harry just swatted him on his ass for his trouble.)

 

On Sunday, Harry rutted himself against Louis’s thighs until he came quietly. That night, he tied Louis’s wrists with silk rope to the headboard, and spread his legs and tied each ankle to a bedpost. He teased Louis with a vibrator for nearly half an hour, before switching it off and untying his boy to cuddle up to him. Harry refused to acknowledge that Louis hadn’t come, and Louis clung to Harry all night.

 

On Monday, Louis and Harry went to their respective workplaces, and Louis didn’t drink any tea all day so he wouldn’t be tempted to go to the bathroom and end up find himself in a compromising position. He found himself beginning to get desperate when he got half hard at the only slightly dirty texts from Harry, sent while Harry’s driver took him to the farmer’s market. It was worse when he picked up a butternut squash and felt it up like it was a giant phallic object. (Well. It _was_ shaped that way.)

 

By the time Trenton the Chauffeur has dropped Louis at the flat, he’s devised a plan. He sprints the groceries to the flat’s kitchen, skidding on the tile. He piles everything on the island before ripping through Harry’s carefully organized drawers. He finds what he was seeking in the second drawer to the left of the fridge. It’s got a stack of Harry’s stupidly folded aprons. He pulls one out at random and dashes up the stairs to his and Harry’s room, where he strips.

 

He leaves his clothes in a heap on the floor, and goes inside the walk-in closet to examine himself in the full-length mirror. (Haha, full length... Louis smirks at his own joke.) He pokes his head through the top loop of the apron, and spins around so he can see his backside in the mirror as he ties the back straps snugly. He ties them right under the curve of his ass, tightly enough so that the straps cut in a little and do a wonderful job of making his ass look delightfully plump and the roundness bump up due to the strings, like they were sitting on a little shelf. Sort of like how a low cut dress boosts up cleavage, Louis thinks.

 

Cleavage is basically the only thing missing, but Louis’s collar bones are completely visible, so Louis counts it anyway.

 

When Harry comes home forty five minutes later, he strides into the kitchen in ones of his perfectly tailored suits. Louis doesn’t know how the sharp suit flatters Harry’s long legs and perfect shoulders, since he’s currently leaning against the kitchen island, facing away from the kitchen entrance. Whilst he can’t see Harry’s entrance, he hears it.

 

It goes something like _footsteps_ , “Hi babe!”, and _thunk_. The thunk originates as Harry drops his briefcase on the floor. Louis’s not really sure why he didn’t put it in his studio like normal, but he’s beyond caring. He’s been wearing this stupid apron, posing for the last ten minutes waiting for Harry to get home and appreciate him.

 

And by appreciate him, he means _finally_ , finally let him come.

 

“Baby, I love it when you try.” This time Harry isn’t soothing an upset Louis. This is a Harry with a croaky voice, trying to keep up his appearance of “in control.” This time he isn't referring to Louis trying not to come, he's referring to Louis trying to make himself so tempting that Harry forgets that Louis isn't supposed to come for a little while.

 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, honey dear.” Louis bites his lip in an effort not to grin, not willing to risk turning around yet and lose his poker face.

 

“Bullshit,” Harry calls, before his huge hands are on Louis’s ass, gripping his hips tightly, spinning Louis around and pressing him against the island.

 

Whatever Louis is planning on saying next is lost as Harry’s tongue dips into his mouth, meets Louis’s, slides over his lips. Harry’s hands are wandering all over Louis’s body, stroking Louis’s naked sides and back. He suddenly yanks Louis to him, and Louis stumbles into Harry with the force of the tug. With Louis plastered against his front, Harry’s hands reach down to yank the apron’s drawstrings.

 

The simple bow comes undone in seconds, and Harry’s grabbing Louis’s wrists and lifting them up, pulling the apron over Lou’s head. Harry’s mouth is still chasing after Louis’s as soon as the apron’s out of the way, and Louis’s tipping up on his toes to lean in, closer to Harry, closer to the hands that are holding him tight. Harry’s hands are settled on Louis’s ass, moving with the rutting motion Louis’s hips are making. Harry pulls back just quick enough to shrug out of his suit jacket. “Guess you got tired of waiting?”

 

Louis pulls back, disregards the spit thats caught between his and Harry’s mouths from their sloppy connection. “Thought if I tried hard enough, I could convince you to fuck me?”

 

Harry just moans and tips his head back. Louis’s fumbly fingers shake on Harry’s shirt buttons. Button up shirts are for occasions when a slow, sensual undressing is desired. _THIS IS SO NOT THE CASE_ , Louis’s brain screams.

 

He’s got half the buttons undone and Harry can buy another shirt. It’s his logic when Louis tugs the shirt, effectively ripping it open so he can tug it off Harry’s arms. He hears a button pop off and skitter on the kitchen tile. Oops.

 

Next, Harry’s belt buckle clatters against the tile, and then Harry’s wriggling out of his slacks. Louis tries not to laugh, but they're stained on the upper thigh from where naked Louis rubbed against Harry’s leg. He’d already been drippy from basically waiting to come for three days and working himself up in anticipation in the kitchen. Oops. (Louis's beyond caring about the shirt button, _so_ beyond caring about a stupid stain that Harry's dry cleaner might laugh at.)

 

Soon both men are completely naked, hand running over each other as if they can't get enough of touching each other's warm skin, heated and pressed against one another. In a delayed reaction, Harry realizes the huge kitchen window is open, for all the neighbors to see in. He groans and walks backwards, propelling him and his boy out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. He trips on the lowest one. Louis tries his hardest not to laugh.

 

“I wouldn’t be laughing.” Harry’s voice cuts into Louis’s lust-addled mind, killing the pent-up giggles about how ridiculous this all is and how well his plan is working to get laid. Putting himself on display always seems to work up Harry. So does being a little defiant. As these are things Louis tends to do frequently, traits that define him, it’s worked to his sex life’s advantage.

 

“Oh?” Louis just raises a brow. He’s sitting on the lowest stair and Harry’s on his knees in front of him. Louis’s eyes flick up as Harry stands up.

 

“I noticed you got basically naked in the kitchen, but left the blinds open. Do you realize how many other apartments can see in?” Harry’s voice has a new timber to it, dropped low and gravelly in a way that screams of sex.

 

Louis gives Harry an angelic smile. “I didn’t realize, no. Just wanted to put on a little show for my wonderful man. Guess I didn’t think about anyone else. Was a little... distracted.” On the last word, he-- for the first time in ages-- tightens a fist around his prick. _Ohhhhhh_ , is all his mind can shudder. His eyelashes flutter shut.

 

When he’s able to open his eyes again, he sees Harry glaring down at him. “I’m the only one who gets to look,” he says. His eyes are bright, but he isn’t kidding. He has to show Louis he's serious. “Do that again and I’ll make you blow me in front of the window until someone sees you, on your knees like a desperate slut.” Harry must see how Louis’s eyes get huge and round, because he’s immediately adding, “Don’t touch yourself.”

 

Louis’s laid back now, his head resting on the edge of a stair a few steps above where his legs are spread on the lowest stair. “I... I can’t,” he whispers brokenly to Harry. He _needs_ Harry to take care of him now. He’s been waiting so long, so much longer than last time and last time Harry had been forgiving when he came too early, but this time he so badly wants to be good for Harry, but he can’t, not when Harry hasn’t stopped towering above him, not when Harry’s touching his nipples and looking at Louis with a glint in his eye. His mind is already starting to feel hazy, and he’s biting his lip again. One of his hands is holding desperately to the handrail, like if he let’s go he’ll just sag against the stairs.

 

“Why not?” Harry’s voice breaks him out of his muddle.

 

“If... I... let go...” Louis grits out. “I’m gonna come.”

 

“Can’t have that.” Harry’s succinct. “Can you wait till we get upstairs? I could carry you up.”

 

“May-maybe.” Louis’s voice cracks.

 

Harry _hmms_ and steps over Louis, who whines and grips himself tighter while Harry disappears upstairs, leaving Louis sprawled on the stairs.

 

He’s back quickly, with supplies. He kisses Louis surprisingly softly before he wraps a thin leather band around Louis’s cock, tightening it quickly. “You can let go, now.”

 

Louis unclenches his hand, and his eyebrows shoot up at the intensity. “H, H...” he’s mumbling. Harry knows what he’s doing though, quickly works a finger into Louis, then another. It’s as if Louis is numb, he doesn’t feel or register any of it, the only thing he can think about is the pressure on his cock, as Harry’s carefully avoiding Louis’s prostate. Louis’s kicked his legs out as far as they go and they’re hitting the walls, so Harry lifts them over his shoulders.

 

When he presses into Louis, there’s still a stretching burn. It hurts _good_ and Louis’s eyes are squeezed shut. He’s still clinging to the banister with one hand, and he’s touching his own nipple with the other. Harry’s on the brink as it is, pushing into Louis’s warmth. Most of the intensity doesn’t come from the mechanics-- that’s just sex.

 

Harry’s so hard because he’s so enamoured with this boy but also completely turned on by how slutty he is, by the way he keens no matter what Harry says. He’s been keeping up a steady stream of praise, telling Louis how good he looks touching himself. Asking if he played with himself when Harry wasn’t around. If he was so hard at work that he would’ve let Greg suck him off, or if he was so horny that he’d fall on his knees for Greg. “It’s a wonder you even managed to buy groceries. You were so hard when I got home, looked so good naked, all dressed up with your ass on display. Didn’t care that anybody could see, didn’t even know if I’d be coming home with guests for dinner. Bet you wish you could’ve played with yourself, gotten yourself ready for me?” Soon Harry’s not even pausing between sentences, words are just streaming out of him without his control, just saying what he’s feeling. “So good, Louis, you’re always my good boy, I know you love being good, you’ve been good for three days, baby, I’m so proud, I know you were working so hard, even when you’re naughty you turn me on so much, _God_ , I almost had to wank myself off when I got your pictures in Canada and I’d already come that day, I _love_ you--” he reaches down and grips the leather that’s around Louis’s cock. Louis’s keening and is just letting his body be rocked by Harry’s thrusts. His face is red, and it looks like he’s already begun to cry.

 

“It’s t-t-too ti-tight.” He’s shuddery. “I ne-need to come.”

 

“Love you,” Harry says again, “ _So_ \--” he tugs the leather off, “-- _much_.” His words melt into a groan as he pulses into Louis, hips still snapping in as he grips Louis’s hips hard enough to leave bruises. His groan is drowned out by the wail that’s being torn out of Louis, whose cock is twitching desperately and untouched and is an angry red. _There’s so much come_ , Harry's mind faintly recognizes, before he's focusing on Louis again, and the way he’s clenching and bearing down on Harry like he just wants him even deeper.

 

When the last of the _ahhhh_ has come out of Louis, when he’s lying slumped on the stairs with Harry hovering protectively, he blinks his eyes open ever so slowly. “Mmm... Hazzzz,” he slurs. “‘Ve never come so hard in my life.” There is an audible gap between each word, Louis is speaking so slow. His words come out like honey, sweet and raspy and warm and slow. They’re both breathing hard, trying to catch their breath. Louis's smiling though, grinning at Harry even as he closes his eyes again.

 

When he’s got his breath back, Harry peppers kisses all over Louis’s jaw. “I’ve always liked how you sound. Wish I could’ve recorded us, you sounded amazing when you came. Never fake, just hot as fuck.” He likes it when Louis slips into a slutty mood and asks for it, begging to be fucked hard and muttering “give it to me, harder,” like a pornstar. But he also likes it when Louis just has to trust Harry to know exactly what to do and when, if he can’t use his words.

 

“Um, m'back. Kinda. Hurts.” Harry draws back immediately.

 

“Oh my God, lovey, I’ll get you something.” And instantly, the Harry that would crack a whip on Louis’s ass to make him come is replaced by the Harry who runs to get his organic body butter to massage into Louis’s back and ass, which have unmercilessly been rubbed into the carpeted stairs so that they’re now raw from carpet-burn.

 

Louis lets himself be carried to bed. “Thank you,” he whispers against Harry’s neck as Harry lays him on their duvet. He says it again when Harry uses one of their expensive, fluffy towels soaked in hot water to clean him up, and then carefully rolls Louis onto his front. He straddles him to rub the lemon-scented balm into Louis’s sore back, rubbing out tension. By the time he’s finished, Louis has fallen asleep from exhaustion.

  
Harry goes back to the kitchen to make sure Louis didn’t leave any burners on (clever, cheeky devil only put his dish in the oven, didn’t actually have it cooking) and picks up the apron, folds it carefully and sets it on the island. (Harry wants to buy Louis his own apron now. Maybe one that has frilly lace on the edge, or one of the gag gift ones with a crude picture on the front. Maybe he'll buy more than one. The more the merrier, after all. He loves giving Louis presents.) He ignores his suit, which had been crumpled underneath the apron. Then he dashes back upstairs to cuddle up with his boy. It might be Louis’s turn to be the big spoon, since his back will probably be tender for a little while. Poor little one. Harry brushes a kiss behind Lou’s ear, then tucks himself into bed so that his back is nestled to Louis’s chest, and lifts Louis’s arms to wrap around Harry’s chest. He falls asleep with Louis’s breath tickling the back of his neck.

**Author's Note:**

> A note: this isn't a stereotypical sugar daddy! au verse, where a rich older benefactor showers lavish gifts on a younger (for lack of a better word) twink in exchange for sexual favors. It's also not an outright dom/sub relationship where harry is always in control and louis looks to him for permission to do anything. I like to think of it as a pleasant blending of both. Without non-con. It's mutually beneficial ;) feel free to message me or comment and I'll do my best to elaborate :)
> 
> Kudos and comments are gold, just like you if you've made it this far ;)
> 
> xox


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